


Never Be Like You

by criedwolf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fanart, Good Draco Malfoy, Helpful Severus Snape, Hogwarts Fourth Year, M/M, Nothing happens while Harry is underage, Scarification, Seer Harry Potter, Seer Luna Lovegood, Triwizard Tournament, Vomiting, Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21880444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/criedwolf/pseuds/criedwolf
Summary: Harry starts having visions, right before the Triwizard Tournament.
Relationships: Bartemius Crouch Jr. & Harry Potter, Bartemius Crouch Jr./Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 225





	1. Neverland

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd

"Morsmordre!"

Harry grunted in pain, holding his hand to his forehead. The skull leered from above, its green form twisting and distorting. Its spellcaster snapped his head towards Harry, coming closer and closer until his face was barely visible and the vision morphed into the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling cracked loudly and cast a large shadow over the students, not all of them in a familiar Hogwarts uniform. Another man pointed his wand toward the enraged castle's skies, and in moments it was back to normal. He came closer and closer to Harry, who was seated at the long tables. His face distorted into the man from before. The man lifted up his sleeve, the Dark Mark glaring at Harry and he curled up in pain, screaming and holding his head, wishing for it to stop. 

"Harry! Harry, wake up!" 

Hermione's soft, worried eyes were glued to him as he scrambled into a sitting position, hand aimlessly searching for his glasses. Nightmare, he reassured her while something tugged at him, saying  _ you’re wrong _ . He ignored it, tuning back in to Hermione as she had proceeded with the impossible task of waking up Ron.

The next time Harry heard the cursed incantation was at the Quidditch World Cup, the scene a complete copy of Harry’s nightmare. The man came toward him again, interrupted by shouts of Harry’s name and then he ran off. Harry let his eyes linger on the place he last saw him, confused and terrified of what had just happened.

Some time later, Harry finds himself surrounded by the students from his dreams in the Great Hall. The second man from his nightmare glared at him, but his face did not distort, and he didn’t roll up his sleeve. All he did was hurry for the inside of his pockets, and take a swig of a mysterious liquid. Harry squinted.

After the feast and the grand announcement of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry laid on his bed in the Gryffindor dorms, dreading his next nightmare. Could he have prevented the riot? He closed his eyes, but all he saw was the green skull and serpent hovering amongst the clouds. Harry knows by now, that Voldemort's return is imminent. He closed his eyes, knowingly drifting off to another night of horror.

* * *

A man and a woman entered Azkaban as Harry watched from afar. The woman looked tired and sickly, but strangely determined, but the man only angry. Harry recognized him as Barty Crouch. He waited outside in the storm amongst the dementors circling the skies, not daring to enter the fortress of mad witches and wizards. When Barty Crouch and the woman came back out, the woman had a slight more spring in her step, almost unnoticeable, but the man was merely even angrier, with a tinge of sadness. The woman’s face distorted into the face of the man from the Quidditch World Cup. Harry blinked, and in that moment the scene changed. In a graveyard, a casket was lowered. The man from Azkaban, Barty Crouch, looked toward it in grief, then glared at a seemingly empty spot under a tree. Harry blinked again, it wasn’t empty. It was the man with the distorting face! He was wearing a silvery garment of some kind, an invisibility cloak? His eyes were sunken in and dark, sobbing uncontrollably, but silently, his lips pressed into a tight line. The world spun around him, and Harry was in a room now. Looking around, his eyes stopped at an empty corner. He blinked again and it wasn’t empty anymore. The man with the distorting face was curled up into a ball on the floor now, still wearing the cloak. Harry jumped in surprise when a house-elf went through him, carrying a tray with a plate of bubble & squeak along with a glass of water and a cup of tea.

“Not now Winky,” said the man with a raspy voice.

“Master Barty has to eat!” said Winky firmly, like a mother hen.

‘Wait, Barty?’ Harry was confused, but continued to watch. Barty refused the food again, claiming he was not hungry despite his thin frame and hollow cheeks. Winky put the tray down in front him.

“Winky talks to Master, Winky convinces him to let you go to the Quidditch World Cup! Master Barty likes Quidditch!” The young Barty twitched, but it went unnoticed by Winky as she continued. “Master Barty needs fresh air.”

She left the room, Barty still curled up on the floor and not touching his food. Now, however, he had a slight twinkle in his eyes. The vision distorted once more into the riot during the World Cup. Harry’s body froze as the events came rushing back, the screams of agony and the crying, bodies being levitated and humiliated by Death Eaters.

* * *

He woke with a gasp, eyes wide and looking around in horror. Realization that he was still in Hogwarts and safe in his bed slowly dawning upon him. Harry covered his eyes with his forearm, sighed and wiped the sweat away. Looking at the time and seeing it was still early, Harry laid in his bed trying to unfold everything he had just witnessed. Rather than a glimpse of the future like his previous nightmares, these seemed more like memories. The memory of the man with the distorting face- Barty. Could it have been the son? Harry’s mind went back to the conversation during the feast about the fate of Barty Crouch’s young son. Wait, had he escaped Azkaban? So he wasn’t dead? Harry had so many questions, surely there had to be some records of the young Barty somewhere.

Convinced to look for the records later, with his head still spinning, Harry rose to his feet to shower and get dressed. He still felt sick later at breakfast, pale and his hands shook lightly. He tried to convince a worried Hermione and a curious Ron that he had just come down with a cold and that he was fine. Ron nodded and turned back to listen to Seamus, but Hermione wasn’t as easily convinced. She glared intently at him, mouthing ‘Madam Pomfrey’. He nodded with a twinge of guilt as he wasn’t going to listen to her. He finished his breakfast quickly, softly giving his goodbyes to his friends before leaving for the library.

He walked up to Madam Pince’s desk as she continued to read her book, barely acknowledging him.

“Excuse me, Madam Pince?” She hummed in response. “Do you have any old newspapers here? Or records, perhaps biographies of ministry officials?”

“At the far back, to the right, both shelves,” said Madam Pince simply. Harry muttered a thanks to which she didn’t respond, then hurried to the back. The high shelves loomed over him, boxes with newspapers and folders filled to the brim, behind him another shelf with more boxes but also books- probably the biographies. Harry sighed, and got to work.

Two and a half hours later, surrounded by heaps of books and papers, Harry finally found all that he was looking for. A Daily Prophet covering the capture and sentencing of Bartemius Crouch Jr, another of his death and then another of his mother’s. He gawked at the moving images of Barty, that was definitely the man from his dreams, and the man at the World Cup. He definitely wasn’t dead then. Harry felt himself get dizzy. His dreams couldn’t just be dreams, they had to be visions of some sort. He didn’t understand what any of this meant. Thinking back to the first dream where Alastor Moody’s face had contorted into Barty’s, and then his mother’s as she exited the gates of Azkaban. It couldn’t have been her. But then if the visions were real, the Moody Harry saw at the feast was not Moody but Barty. He had to figure out a way to know for sure. But how?

He cleaned up the table he was at, putting all the books and papers back where they belonged before slowly making his way to the hallways again. Harry was deep in thought when he spotted the Weasley twins chatting with a Hufflepuff. A soft gasp escaped his lips. Of course. The Marauder’s Map. Harry quickly hurried past the boys, the twins cheerfully greeting him in unison, and he gave them a quick hello before continuing to the Gryffindor towers. Making sure no one was around, he pulled the map out of his trunk. He glanced at the time again. He had to get to Charms class with Professor Flitwick first, but his next class was with who everyone only thought of as Moody. He couldn’t find either of the names in the map right now, but all he had to do was check the map after class. If the name in the classroom didn’t say Alastor Moody, he’d know for certain.

What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

Three unforgivable curses later, Harry found himself in the stairs, following Barty's every movement as he retrieved the dazed Neville from his spot near the window. He didn't need the Marauders Map to confirm that this man was not Moody, but certainly Barty Crouch Jr, who had allegedly tortured Neville's parents. He felt uncertain letting the boy go with the man, but reassured himself with the thought that he wouldn't harm a student while under Dumbledore's roof. 

Why he didn't take the Marauder's Map and go straight to Dumbledore with this new revelation, Harry wasn't entirely sure.

The next day after a small lunch, Harry was throwing up in the second floor girls’ lavatory, strangely unoccupied by Moaning Myrtle.

“Trying to lose weight, Potter?”

Harry grunted loudly in response to Malfoy’s taunt and slumped against the wall of the stall, sitting down on the floor. Malfoy was leaning against the door frame and blankly staring at him, until he sighed and handed him a handkerchief to wipe away some vomit around his lips. Harry muttered a quiet thanks as Malfoy sat down next to him on the floor. Neither of them said anything for some time.

“I don’t get why we have to hide our friendship anymore, Draco,” Harry said after a while. “It would make the world a better place, you know.”

Draco snorted at that, and bumped Harry’s side with his elbow. “How are you feeling?” He said instead, ignoring Harry’s question entirely. Harry grunted again.

“I’m-”

“Don’t say fine,” Draco interrupted.

“Okay,” Harry finished instead, earning another sigh from Draco. “I’ve been having...visions.”

“Visions?” Draco cocked his head. “Of what?”

“What happened at the world cup, for one. The night before it happened,” Draco stood up suddenly.

“Harry are you serious?!” He shouted and Harry stood up to shush him. Draco whispered this time, “Are you serious?! A vision of the future?! You’re a bloody seer!”

“What? No! It’s-It can’t be- look, calm down! It’s not just visions of the future. I’ve been dreaming about the past too. Every time I have these visions in my dream I just feel more and more sick, like they’re draining the life out of me. I don’t know how much longer I can take it,” Harry rambled. They fell into a silence again, Draco lost in thought and Harry doing his best to keep himself upright. Draco noticed and led him out of the stall and towards a wall facing the Chamber’s opening, then sat them both down.

“There’s a girl from Ravenclaw, Luna Lovegood, I hear she’s strange, but there are rumors of her being a seer going around. You should speak to her, she might know something.” Harry slumped against Draco’s shoulder.

“Thanks Draco,” Harry mumbled.

“Don’t fall asleep on my shoulder.”

“Harry?”

“Oh you bloody…”

Harry woke up with a spring, sweat running down his temples and his nausea no better than before. Draco silently wiped away some of the sweat with a towel.

“You were having a nightmare, I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t,” He said. Harry tried to calm his racing heart from his vision, but then Draco sighed and continued. “We have potions now, you know.”

“No, Draco no, I can’t! He’ll tear me apart, I can’t handle that right now, please,” Harry pleaded and Draco grabbed both of his hands and calmed him down.

“It’s okay. I’ll be with you, I promise.”

“But you- I thought we agreed not to-”

“You said it yourself, there’s no reason to hide,” Draco smiled. “Come on, lets get you cleaned up.”

Harry washed his face with cold water and Draco taught him a cleaning charm that he used on his mouth to get rid of the odor from the earlier vomiting. Once Draco deemed Harry decent enough- by Harry’s standards at least -to be seen in public, they both walked the empty halls to Snape’s class. 

Taking a deep breath and being reassured by Draco that he’s still with him, Harry opened the door to the classroom. They were late, only by a minute but when it came to Snape, a second late and you’d already be signed up for detention.

“10 points from Gryffindor for tardiness.”

The whole class was looking at the pair, clearly having noticed them coming in together. Draco swallowed down the lump in his throat and stepped up next to Harry.

“Professor, I was equally as late,” He said, trying to keep his voice from shaking as much as possible. Snape was unresponsive for a moment, but then as firmly as he could-

“20 points from Gryffindor, for encouraging bad behaviour.”

Draco was about to open his mouth again but Harry pushed him to a half-empty table to the side. They resumed class like normal, no one dared to ask why they were both equally late to begin with.

They agreed again, to not let their friendship be known after all and told their friends it was a temporary truce they agreed on, and that’s why they were late. They weren’t sure if anyone bought it, but they thankfully didn’t question it any further.

The days passed quickly, heavily eventful what with having his name put in the Goblet of Fire and all. He had spoken to Luna and like Draco had told him, she was strange. But somehow everything she said somehow made sense. They parted as newly discovered friends, but Harry was still without answers to his visions. The visions continued almost every night now, memories of Barty's past showing like a TV show. It reminded Harry of how aunt Petunia would watch her soap operas late at night with a glass of cheap wine. It left him drained during the day but with a clearer understanding of Barty's life, but then he also had no energy to argue too much when Ron was cross with him for seemingly no real reason. His lack of putting up a fight only fueling Ron's anger. In fact, it seemed the entire school hated him more than usual, as he found himself face to face with Malfoy yet again.

"I don't give a damn what your father thinks, Malfoy. He's vile and cruel. And you're just pathetic." Harry turned his back on him, Malfoy continuing to mutter angrily before he heard clothes rustle, then he saw Barty- Moody in the corner of his eye.

"Oh, no, you don't, sonny!"

When Harry turned back around, Malfoy was gone and in his place was a white ferret, circling around helplessly through the grass and leaves.

"I'll teach you to curse someone when their back is turned!" Moody levitated the ferret, throwing him up in the air then pushing him down again, repeating the dizzying motion as an audience began to gather around them. Harry surprisingly found himself laughing with them, momentarily letting it slip his mind that he’s standing in front of a Death Eater and that was his friend- who was actually not about to hex him- being levitated. "You stinking, cowardly, scummy…" 

"Professor Moody!" McGonagall came running, but Moody continued his manipulations of the ferret.

"...back-shooting-"

"What are you doing?" said McGonagall incredulously. 

"Teaching." 

"ls that a-? ls that a student?"

"Technically, it's a ferret" said Moody, levitating Malfoy into Goyle's pants. McGonagall snapped, undoing the spell on him as soon as Malfoy was out of Goyle's crotch.

"My father will hear about this!" shouted Malfoy, quickly chased away by an angry Moody who was interrupted by an even angrier McGonagall. The crowd dispersed, and Harry somehow found himself in Moody’s office moments later. A trunk in the corner of the room shook with what sounded like muffled screams, Moody grunted in response.

"Wouldn't even bother telling you what's in there. You wouldn't believe it if I did. Now…"

"It wouldn't happen to be the real Alastor Moody, would it?"

Barty froze momentarily, but regained his composure. "This is no time for jokes Potter-" 

“You’re right, Barty. It’s no time for jokes at all,” Harry said firmly. Barty paused again, looking him over with one eye, the other spinning furiously around in it’s metal sock.

"I've been very careful never to let the Polyjuice potion run out of time before I would change back,” Barty said curiously. “So how did you know?”

Harry didn't respond, not sure if telling a confirmed Death Eater, who was definitely acting under a weakened Voldemort's orders, that he was having nightly visions was a good idea. Although it seemed to not matter, because Barty turns out- was not a patient man. He cornered Harry in his chair, grabbing hold of his head with both hands and pressed his thumb into his scar. Harry screamed in agony as he could do nothing but feel Barty invade his mind, watching Harry relive his life and memories. Barty pushed back before seeing much further than the time around the Quidditch World Cup that Winky had helped him get to, letting Harry’s head slip his hands and gasping for breath.

“You’re a seer,” said Barty slowly. Harry covered his scar with his hand, pushing his chair further away from the Death Eater.

“No, I don’t think that’s right,” said Harry, still groaning in pain. Something tugged at him again, somehow he knew what it was and what it wasn’t. “They aren’t prophecies, but memories. Visions of the future, but it was a future that had already happened, I think.”

Barty only looked on in confusion. “You knew my identity all this time, but you never told anyone- why?”

“I’m not sure.” said Harry, letting his hand slip from his forehead and into his lap. “Seeing everything you went through- I just can’t let them throw you to the dementors.”

Barty hummed, hitting deep notes that rumbled inside Harry's chest. He finally looked up from his lap to see Moody's face begin to bubble, but Barty didn't stop it with another gulp of the potion. Instead he got up, just as his leg grew back and Moody's wooden one popped out along with his eye. Barty grabbed on to the desk behind Harry, leaning over him with his straw colored hair falling over his face. "So you saw a little piece of me and you think you know me, is that it?"

Harry swallowed down his fear. "No, you don't understand, I saw everything! You were always alone, you had no one but Winky and-and your mother…" Barty's breath hitched at the mention of his mother, his hands now gripping Harry's shoulder to the point where it hurt. Yet, Harry continued, not really sure what he was trying to do but he kept rambling. All the nightmares and frustrations having built up to the point where they spilled over. "How your father dismissed and abused you, when he locked you in Azkaban and threw away the key. How your mother wept for you, ached for you- and for your freedom. And how when you finally got it, your father forced you into another prison of your own mind and of invisibility. Only Winky saw you now. The one person who truly loved you- your mother- gone."

The hands on Harry's shoulder shook, and he dared to look into the eyes of a broken man, only to find them glossed over with unshed tears and pain. Harry's own shaking hands slowly rose to grab Barty's forearm in comfort. Slowly dragging them down the now oversized jacket to the hands on his shoulders, and Barty let out a soft gasp as he found himself unable to breathe. Harry was getting more and more confident with every movement.

"I know you better than anyone ever will. Winky's loyalty is for her master-your father and the Crouch household first. You are second." When Barty started becoming enraged and his tongue flicked out rapidly, Harry quickly continued. "But it doesn't have to be like that! You are not your father, you are your own man! You don't belong to him nor Voldemort! You can live your own life, like your mother died, hoping you would!" 

Barty sat down, sagging his head, hands still in Harry's own. "It's too late for me, my master needs me-" Harry gripped his cold hands more tightly and the older man looked up. He looked so exhausted and pale. The only color in his face were the freckles littering his nose. Harry gazed determinedly into his eyes. 

"It's not too late, and you know it. Your mother knew too, that's why she did what she did. Believe me, I know what it's like to have your own mother give her life for you. We have to live up to their sacrifices Barty, it's the only way to honor their deaths!"

Barty hunched his shoulders and lowered his head again. "I- I need some time to think," said the man softly, letting his hands slip from Harry's warm ones. The young boy got up and nodded, although not sure if Barty noticed. When he was almost at the door, Barty called from behind him. "I want you back in my office two hours before breakfast tomorrow. Don't think we're done here, Potter."

"I wouldn't dream of it, professor. Really," Harry opened the door, then turned around one more time just as Barty gulped down some Polyjuice potion. "Oh and be sure to take care of the real Moody, or I'll have your soul."

The door slammed shut, and Barty let out a chuckle, tongue flicking out in excitement. 

* * *

Harry stood next to Cedric, surrounded by hedges and in front of them was the Triwizard Cup. They grabbed it together, and it happened so quickly. There was a green flash, and Cedric was dead. It was a Portkey, and it led straight into Voldemort's waiting hands. The memory broke down into several fragments, and Harry witnessed all of them at once, his brain struggling to process and put them together. Cedric was gone, Voldemort was back, almost no one believed him and he grew angrier. Then his mind focused on a single memory. Sirius, and his arms wrapped around Harry. He was calm. For a moment. Then it distorted, and his godfather was being tortured. Harry cried, begging for it to stop and it listened. The memories now spun tales of prophecies and of battles. He was next to Sirius in the next moment, fighting, and then there was another green flash- and Sirius fell.

Harry woke with a scream. Drenched in sweat, he sat up and thanked Merlin for his new habit of putting Muffliato charms around his bed before sleeping due to the visions.

He was still panting and sweating when he stepped out of the showers and into his uniform. Barely holding himself upright as he made his way down the towers and into the hallways, he knocked on Barty's door, way too early in the morning. The door swung open, Barty grumbling under his breath and disguised as Moody once more, and then froze when he caught sight of Harry's state. He ushered him in then went on, going into a room in the back of his office.

Moments later he had a warm cup of tea in his hands, snuggling into a cozy armchair as the lit fireplace warmed his cold skin. Harry felt much better.

"Well?" said Barty impatiently, sitting in front of him on his own armchair with his own cup of tea.

"Well what?" 

He cussed under his breath again. "Well, what did you see this time?" 

Harry paused with the next sip of his tea. "Did you consider anything of what I said yesterday?" said Harry instead, taking a lesson from Draco and ignoring his question entirely. Barty's tongue slipped out in anger, his tick flaring. He took out the hip flask from his pocket and swallowed down a large gulp. 

"I did."

"And?" 

"And- my main objective as of now is to keep you alive and safe. It can wait. Now, change the subject again and I'll hex you into oblivion," he barked out. The vulnerability of the Barty from the other day was entirely gone. Harry wasn't ready to admit defeat just yet though, there was still hope. Barty growled when he voiced these thoughts.

"What did I just say, Potter! Never mind any of that right now- what are you going to do about your dragon?"


	2. Asphodels

“You’re cheating!”

“Why can’t you just accept that you’re not very good at this, Draco?” Harry said, putting down another card on the floor of the Astronomy tower. “You lose, again.”

Draco groaned and threw the rest of his cards on the floor. “This sucks, let’s do something else!”

“Like what? I can’t show my face around the halls without getting hexxed anymore,” Harry said and gathered the cards into a pile. Draco smiled coyly and pulled out his wand from the pocket of his pants and a fistful of seeds from the other, throwing them at Harry’s feet and pointed his wand at them.

“Herbivicus Duo!” Draco shouted, and a bunch of asphodels sprouted from the seeds, growing around Harry. “We’re wizards Harry, we can do whatever we bloody like!”

“Right, but that doesn’t explain why you had seeds in your pocket,” Harry said with a chuckle, picking off a flower from one of the asphodels. “I didn’t think you fancied these kind of spells.”

“I know all kinds of spells Potter,” Draco said with a smug look. “You should try and learn some too.” 

Harry squinted, pulling out his wand. “Multicorfors!”

Draco looked down in shock as his uniform was turned into a hot pink. Harry laughed loudly, earning a hard tackle from the blonde as he demanded he transfigure his clothes back to their regular colors. Then the bell rang, and they both got up. Harry transfigured Draco’s clothes back while he fixed his hair back into place.

“I’ll see you later Harry,” Draco said solemnly.

“Yeah, cya.”

Harry sat back down, as his next class doesn’t start until some hour later. He waited until Draco’s footsteps had quieted down before pulling out a book on runes, determined to finish his essay. He was feeling a lot better lately, he’d been hanging out more with Draco who knew exactly how to distract him and it actually worked, the visions started coming on less and less. The few that he had were minor and the nausea wasn’t as bad as when he was dreaming of Barty, death and Voldemort.

He idly fiddled with the flowers left by Draco with one hand and flipped the pages of the book with the other, only stopping to write some more on the essay. Harry must have been pretty deep in thought as he couldn’t hear the rather loud footsteps of Alastor Moody’s wooden leg thumping up the stairs of the tower, until he was right in front of him.

“Runes I see…”

Harry jumped, dropping his book and paper, ink spilling all over his newly-written essay. His shoulders slumped as he picked up the book and writing equipment, but left the ruined essay on the floor. Moody watched his every movement before laying his eyes on the essay, slowly picking it up from the floor and pointing his wand at it, muttering _Scourgify_. Harry watched curiously as the ink previously dripping from the paper evaporated into the air. Moody skimmed over the text before offering it back to the young boy, who grabbed it gently and looked over the essay with amazed emerald eyes.

“Incredible! How did you separate the spilled ink from the written ink?” Harry asked, but received no answer. Then he remembered- a memory from Barty’s past. A young Barty had spilled ink all over his father’s work and cried in fear of what he might do to him, trying over and over to clean it using the Scouring Charm before his father would get back from the Ministry. Finally moments before his father arrived, he succeeded, his magic finally listening to his pleads of desperation. Yet still, he received a beating for entering his father’s study while he wasn’t there.

“Sorry…,” Harry muttered, looking down at his essay again, but Moody shook it off. He pointed at a phrase on Harry’s paper with his wand.

“You can’t use runes like this,” He said, and tapped his wand against the text, the ink morphing into a new sentence. “That’s better.”

“Thanks?” Harry said, unsure of why he would help him with his essay. “Umm… Were you good at runes during your school years?” He asked.

“I suppose. They come in handy, when written correctly.” Moody said, but then quickly continued. “This isn’t a safe place to talk.”

‘ _Oh you want to talk now, is that it?_ ’ Harry thought. “I know a place,” He said instead, picking up the flowers from Draco and putting them in his bag. Harry led Moody to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, who was still strangely nowhere to be seen.

“The girls’ lavatory? Really Potter?” Moody snorted. Harry gave him a strange look, tracing the snake on the side of the tap.

“ _O_ _pen,_ ” He hissed, the sinks groaning and crumbling from prolonged inactivity. Moody looked like he had been hit by a Stunner, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Well don’t just stand there.”

They slowly made their way down to the Chamber, Harry turning around when Moody suddenly stopped and the clanking sound of his wooden leg hitting the floor rang through the dungeon. He was stood face to face with Barty, who adjusted his clothes to fit his frame better.

“This place reversed the Polyjuice, how can that be possible?” Barty muttered, almost to himself.

“You should ask your master,” Harry said, leading Barty further down the Chamber and leaving Moody’s wooden leg and eye at the entrance. He stopped by the statue, letting Barty admire the place for a while before speaking again. “Do you know where we are?”

“No, I can’t say that I do…,” Barty said slowly, still admiring the architecture. He ran his hands over the statue, tracing the details of Salazar’s stone beard. “No, wait… This is Salazar Slytherin! We're in the Chamber of Secrets!"

"This is as private as it gets Professor," Harry said, sitting down on the protruding stone. Maybe it was dangerous, venturing alone into a chamber no one else can enter with a known Death Eater. A fact Harry easily lets slip his mind whenever the polyjuice potion wears off and he's left staring at a man he feels like he's known for years. Barty cocked his head, a small smile on his lips.

“Professor Barty hm…,” He let out a laugh and Harry could feel his heart jumping out of his chest. “It has a nice ring to it, I like it.” When Harry scowled and was about to open his mouth again, Barty raised his hand and he immediately closed it. “You said you know me better than anyone- then you must know how much my master means to me. You can’t ask me to betray him on a whim when I owe him my life.”

Standing up from the cold stone beneath him, Harry ran his hands one last time over the statue, before turning to face it.

“ _Come, Ouroboros.”_

Out of the mouth of the Statue of Slytherin, a large dark green serpent crawled towards the two, wrapping them in a circle of itself until its head came back around to lay next to Harry. Barty moved closer to Harry as the wall made entirely out of serpent scales threatened to push him.

“He has the fortune of not having his mother’s eyes, it’s fine to look at him,” Harry said, letting out a light snicker when he noticed Barty’s eyes were closed. He laid a hand on Ouroboros, petting lightly. “He’s not as big as her either, but he’ll grow into it, won’t you?”

“I don’t even know where to begin…”

“I returned to the Chamber some time after second year when I first encountered Tom here, and I found him in the remains of his mother, the Serpent of Slytherin,” Harry said, the young Basilisk slowly inching away from the pair and back into the statue. “He wouldn’t harm anyone, but I never told anyone about him in fear of what they might do to him,” Harry scowled at the Death Eater. “Until now.”

“Why are you telling me this, Potter? If you think you can replace my Lord…,” Barty started but was interrupted by Harry’s wand to his neck, his usually bright green eyes glossed over with a sheen of white. 

“I’m telling you this, _Bartemius_ , because when the final battle comes, he won’t be left standing. A part of him still lives in me, and I know he holds no love. Not for you, not for anyone! You’ll be alone, again…” Harry hissed, the glaze over his eyes fading and he suddenly collapsed into Barty’s arms. Lowering Harry gently onto the floor, Barty cussed under his breath.

“What the bloody hell just happened…”

* * *

When Harry finally woke up hours later, it wasn’t in the Chamber of Secrets nor his dorm, rather he was in a completely unfamiliar, bright room with large open windows overlooking the courtyard of Hogwarts. Harry groaned at the light hitting his eyes and patted his surroundings for his glasses, but they were nowhere to be found. Slowly sitting up, he squinted at his surroundings, until he realized that it wasn’t as blurry as he thought it was. In fact, his surroundings were perfectly clear, including Moody who was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room, reading a book.

“Professor?”

Moody didn’t look up from his book, but merely grunted in response. Only when Harry moved to get up did Moody respond in the form of pushing him back down with a flail of his wand.

"Don't."

"Where am I?" Harry asked, too tired to argue.

"Infirmary, I asked for a private room." 

Harry didn't even know they had private rooms in the infirmary, but didn’t question it further. “Where are my glasses?”

The professor put the book down on the small table next to him, figuring he wouldn’t get much more reading out of it. “They broke when I had to carry you here, I ordered treatment for your eyes instead.”

“Treatme- How long was I out for?!” Harry panicked, this was the first time he had ever had a vision while still awake, and it was not anything like having them while asleep. Not to mention he had been unconscious for who knows how long. 

“A couple of days, it’s not long now until the first task,” Moody said and moved his chair closer to Harry’s bed. “Do you feel prepared?”

Harry was about to answer when there was a knock on the door, and instead invited the stranger in.

“Harry! You’re awake! Are you alright, mate?”

Ron, of all people? Hermione was close behind him and shut the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine but…,” He was going to ask why he was here but hesitated. Luckily, for once, Ron caught on.

“I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been such a dickhead,” He said with a sheepish grin. “Hermione told me you collapsed and I just, I had to come apologize.”

Harry felt one of his many heavy burdens on his shoulders fall off, and gave him a bright smile. Luna and Neville came in some moments later and it wasn’t long before they all started chatting, Moody quietly slipped out of the room without anyone save for Harry having noticed.

“Is he alright, Professor Moody?” Draco asked politely, having waited by the entrance of the infirmary.

“He’s fine lad, though it’s better if you go see him for yourself.”

“No I… It’s better if I don’t. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to run before you turn me into a bloody ferret again,” Draco said and quickly turned on his heel.

* * *

Harry stood face to face with the Hungarian Horntail, wand clutched firmly in his hand at his side and breathing heavily. He wasn’t ready for this at all. As the great dragon growled lowly, taking slow steps towards him, he sealed his eyes shut. Accio didn’t work, which left him without a choice but to fight the Horntail, or outsmart her somehow as he didn’t really want to hurt her. 

Then he met her eyes, and without any warning his own glossed over and he collapsed to the ground from the disorientation of having a vision while awake. It was unlike any other vision he’d ever had, he was in the Great Hall, but it was in complete ruins. It was littered with bodies and devastated witches and wizards. Harry felt dizzy walking around in this memory of another time, but up ahead he could see someone looking vaguely like himself, and he walked up to him. His future self looked broken and his eyes were glued to something ahead, and he followed his gaze to see many red-heads gathered around one of the bodies. Against himself, he walked closer to see whose it was.

_‘No, it couldn’t be.’_

George was sobbing, holding onto Fred’s head and cradling it close to himself.

_‘No, please make it stop! Make it stop!’_

When the vision finally distorted, Harry couldn’t be more relieved. He was still sitting on the ground when he came to, the audience mumbling in confusion amongst themselves. The Hungarian Horntail was watching him silently, curious eyes still looking into his own. Suddenly, she sighed- a loud snoring like sound that made her nose flare and she turned towards her eggs to push the Golden Egg with her nose towards Harry’s waiting hands.

The audience was frozen into silence for a moment before they erupted into loud cheering. He had done it. He completed the first task.

Harry felt no joy for it.

* * *

Harry was watching the Weasley twins like a hawk from afar for days after that, and he must have been pretty obvious about it because Draco questioned him on it for at least half an hour in the Astronomy tower.

“Harry, even for a seer the amount of visions you’ve been having is rare,” Draco said.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do about it,” Harry sighed. “It’s not like I control them!”

“Talk to someone!”

He meant to, he really did, but the Weasleys caught him first. Fred and George cornered him in the hallways, pushing him into an empty classroom. They sat him down on a chair and towered over him. Harry tried his best to avoid their eyes, looking anywhere but towards them.

“Look at us,” Fred said quietly. Something was wrong and they know it, they always know. Thinking back to his vision, Harry’s heart clenched and he couldn’t deny Fred’s request. “Something happened when you faced that dragon.”

“And it’s got you all tensed up, you haven’t let us out of your sight since,” George continued. “Honestly Harry, you’re worse than McGonagall!”

How could he possibly tell them about the visions? He hasn’t even told Hermione or Ron yet. Barty only knows because he forced it out of him, Draco because he caught him throwing up and Luna because he needed advice. Would it change the future if he told them, or would it just upset them? Was there really a point to telling anyone? Harry can’t possibly change the future.

Snapping out of his thoughts as he still hasn’t answered them, he looked back at Fred who had lowered himself to Harry’s eye level.

“Harry, what’s wrong?”

There was no point in telling them. It would only upset them.

“It was just a bad dream that I had, you two had gotten hurt and it was all just a bit vivid. That’s all.”

They didn’t buy it and Harry knew it, but they let him go and he tried not to stare at them as much after that.

* * *

“I’m sorry Harry, but my visions are more up for interpretation rather than clear memories like yours have been,” Luna said, folding another one of Harry’s asphodels that he got from Draco into a crown.

“Thanks anyway Luna,” Harry smiled sadly. They were enjoying a rare sunny day by the beech tree next to the Black Lake. Luna having noticed the asphodels sticking out of Harry’s bag, asked if she could use them and Harry didn’t see a reason to deny her. She picked out a bouquet of leaves from her own bag and started tying them into the asphodels. It was beautiful, a rare display of non-magical craftsmanship.

“What kind of leaf is that?” Harry asked.

“Wormwood!” Luna replied cheerfully, picking up another piece of it and showing it off to Harry. “They say if you combine the two, it would translate to ‘I bitterly regret your absence’, so I thought it’s best to keep them together.”

Something in the back of Harry’s mind snapped.

“Adding a powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood…,” Harry muttered quietly. Luna smiled, completely innocently as if she had no idea what she had just told him. Harry then realized that she most likely did have no idea of what she had just told him. “Come on Luna, I’ll accompany you back to your dorms.”

He dropped her off by the Ravenclaw common room, but before she entered Luna turned around and placed the asphodel and wormwood flower crown on Harry's head. She smiled brightly, and Harry couldn't help but smile back.

Walking through the ancient hallways of the castle, greeting some of the paintings along the way, Harry's smile disappeared in favor of a frown. Snape knew something, he was sure of it. He had to confront him, even if it would earn him a good hex and the loss of a hundred house points. Or at least, that was the idea. Instead he found himself pacing outside his office in the dungeons, having absolutely no idea what to tell him.

“Hello Professor, I know we haven’t gotten along well. Ever. But I’m having visions, also, you knew my mother somehow so let’s talk and be besties forever?” Harry muttered to himself, unaware that Snape was standing and listening in the doorframe to his office the entire time. He grabbed the collar of Harry’s uniform and practically threw him inside his office, the younger boy yelping when his back suddenly hit the wooden back of a chair.

“Tell me about your visions.”

* * *

Snape hummed behind his desk.

“Your connection to the Dark Lord is getting stronger,” he said lowly.

Harry straightened up in his chair. “You mean these visions are because of him?”

“Not entirely, no,” Snape said, and pointed his wand at Harry’s scar, who stared up at him curiously and with a hint of fear. “But you do have a connection with him, without a doubt. As he gets stronger, so does your magic and thus so do your visions.”

Harry let out a soft ‘oh’ and looked down at his bag. Snape squinted darkly at the younger boy. “You haven’t told Dumbledore about your visions have you?”

The boy looked up at his professor sharply. “No, how could I? He’s willing to have me killed in this tournament!” Snape hummed again, then looked on curiously as Harry grabbed his bag from the floor, reaching in to pull out the flower crown Luna gave him. “Asphodels and wormwood, the first words you ever said to me…”

Snape rounded his desk, and sat down in front of Harry, grabbing the crown gently from Harry’s hands. If Harry didn’t know any better, he’d say that Snape looked almost sad.

“You knew my mother…,” Harry started but Snape quickly interrupted him.

“It’s getting late, you should head back to your dorms,” Snape said, giving the crown back to Harry and sitting back down behind his desk. “Your occlumency training begins tomorrow after your classes.”

Harry gaped, then smiled. “Thank you Professor!”

Snape grunted in response and Harry didn’t test his patience further and quickly ran back to his dorms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> art by me uwu


End file.
